


Nothing Else Matters

by consultingcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:46:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingcas/pseuds/consultingcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>September 2011 - A man is pulled out from a lake in Kansas, barely alive. He's identified as Jimmy Novak. Amelia and Claire are thrilled to have Jimmy back and apparently free of Castiel, but as time goes on, they begin to realize that Jimmy might not be all that he seems. Then Dean shows up.<br/>Canon divergent, altered version of "The Born Again Identity" and the events leading up to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this amazing post on tumblr about alternate ideas for how Castiel's return could have gone down and was immediately inspired to write this. I've always had a soft spot for amnesia fics and "The Born Again Identity" is one of my favourite episodes so I guess this was kind of inevitable. Thanks must definitely go to my awesome beta angelofthemoor for her excellent advice and suggestions.
> 
> This is my first published fic so I'd absolutely love to hear what you think of it and any suggestions for anything you'd like to see in this story as I update it. Feel free to comment here or message me on my tumblr account, also consultingcas.
> 
> Title taken from Metallica's song "Nothing Else Matters".

Nothingness.

That’s all he can feel, all that he is. He’s only vaguely aware of the water that is pouring into his lungs or the inky blackness of the lake around him. It seems…unimportant somehow. 

He knows that there’s something, someone he needs to remember, but it’s just out of reach. His mind is like a clean slate, whatever words it had once held washed away by the water.

As if from far off, he hears voices shouting, and then strong hands pull him from the darkness. I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition, he remembers, but the phrase has no meaning to him anymore, if it ever did. Then he’s choking, gasping for air as he coughs up the water that has filled his lungs. Someone is putting a blanket round his shoulders and speaking softly to him. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but it’s somehow reassuring. That’s the last thing he remembers before he passes out.

.....................................................

“…missing for several years now…”  
“…his family must have thought he was dead ‘till that whole cult thing…”  
“…the guy claimed to be God…killed a ton of people…”  
“The police have been looking for him for ages…”  
“I bet they didn’t expect him to turn up half-dead in some lake in Kansas…”

Hesitantly, he opens his eyes when he becomes aware of the low murmuring of voices. Instantly, the hospital staff loitering around his bedside cease chattering once they realize he’s awake and they all return to their normal duties, with only a kindly-looking doctor remaining.

“So, Mr Novak, you’re back in the land of the living. We were very worried about you for a while. You’re been unconscious for a few days now.”  
“Novak? Is that my name?” His voice sounds strange, more gravelly than he’d expected.  
The doctor examines him closely. “What do you remember?”  
“Nothing.” He hadn’t meant to make the declaration so bluntly. “I don’t…I can’t remember anything.” And that revelation is enough to make him start panicking, breathing in short gulps of air and feeling his heart rate sky-rocket.  
“You were found drowning in a lake not far from here by some local hikers who brought you into the A&E.” The doctor’s voice is quiet, reassuring, and he calms a little. “It took us a while going through the police databases of missing persons, but we managed to find out who you are. Your name is James Novak. You went missing a few years back, leaving behind your wife and daughter. They live in Colorado, but they’re on their way to take you home. There’ll be some complications as the police want to speak with you and we need to keep you in for observation for a few more days, but there shouldn’t be too much trouble. You’re obviously very traumatized from your ordeal. I see no reason why you can’t go home soon. Being with your family will help, if nothing else.”

Like before, when he was raised from the lake, he had vague flashes of past memories. He was sat at a dining room table with a woman and young girl, praying to the Lord. Amelia and Claire. The names come back to him. Then the picture changes. This time, he’s dimly aware of Amelia looking horrified in the background as he looks down at…himself, battered and bleeding. A voice that doesn’t sound like his own, but that of someone much younger (a child maybe?) comes from his mouth, “Of course we keep our promises.” The scene feels important, like there’s some major clue to his past that he’s missing, but then he feel an agonizing pain in his head, and the image slips away.

“Yes, Amelia…and Claire…my wife and daughter.” He says hesitantly. “I think I remember them. Only a little, just fragments, but I suppose that’s something.”  
“Yeah, you’re right. Fragments are better than nothing. You’ve got to start somewhere. You’ve been through a lot, Mr Novak, after all.”  
“Do you think I’ll ever get them back? My memories, I mean.” He tries not to show how important this is to him.  
“It’s too early to tell.” The doctor rubs his chin thoughtfully. “People who have been through a great trauma often block the memories of it out. To lose your whole life, though, that’s something else. I’ve never seen anything like it. But yes, there’s a chance. Don’t give up hope yet.”

He won’t do that, he promises himself. Whatever happened to him, whatever stripped away every memory he ever treasured, there has to be a way to fight it. If nothing else, he has to try. He has a family to protect. And one of the few things he’s sure of is that you don’t give up on your family.


	2. Chapter 2

Thinking of himself as Jimmy is hard. For some reason, the name doesn’t seem to fit him quite right, like some slightly oversized overcoat that he’s shrugged on but doesn’t quite wish to let go of. He asked a doctor about it once, but the other man shrugs off the question, saying that the trauma he’s suffering from will make going back to his old life very difficult. It’s the same reason he’s given to explain why he doesn’t seem to eat or sleep. He disagrees. It’s not some psychological trauma making him starve himself; it’s that he just doesn’t feel the need to eat. But all the same, he eats the unappetising hospital food that the nurses bring him and shuts his eyes so he can pretend to sleep so that the nurses won’t worry about him too much. That, and he doesn’t particularly want them to force him to take sleeping pills again. The few times he’s actually managed to rest properly, he’s had vivid dreams. The dreams are usually unpleasant ones. He sees himself killing, torturing hundreds of people in so many different ways. Sometimes he wonders if they’re memories, if the whispered rumours going round the hospital are true and he really is the man who claimed to be God, slaughtering innocent people in the name of righteousness. He doesn’t think that way too often, though. He can’t afford to. He doesn’t know how he would live with himself if it was.

 

The FBI came to see him the day after he woke up. They obviously suspected that he was the man responsible for all those deaths. Not that he blamed them. He’d watched the videos himself and the “God” did look exactly like him, although he’d like to think he lacked the other man’s awkward bearing and self-righteous coldness. There wasn’t much that they could do about it though. No DNA evidence was found at the crime scenes, he had as little idea as they did whether he was the man they were looking for or not, and they’d told him that apparently Amelia had identified the man as someone called “Castiel” (strange name, although he supposed it was vaguely suitable for a religious psychopath). The FBI had little option but to allow him to walk free under the proviso that he had to have regular meetings with a psychologist to monitor his progress while they investigated any leads on who Castiel was. They must have found something useful to corroborate Amelia’s story as they hadn’t bothered him again. He was thankful for small mercies like that.

 

The night after the FBI visited, he had one of his worst nightmares yet. He couldn’t remember much of it as he was violently sick not long after waking up screaming. He also had a splitting headache for most of the morning after, which made it difficult for him to think. One thought stayed with him, though, turning over and over in his head. _I killed my brother…I killed my brother…oh God, I killed him_. He didn’t even try and sleep for several nights after that.

 

Not all of the dreams were bad, though.

 

Not long after he first came to the hospital, he dreamt about Him for the first time. He didn’t know His name, but the man’s sandy hair and devilish smirk seemed achingly familiar. It wasn’t much of a dream, not of the same intensity as the other. They were walking down a darkly-lit side street together. The sandy-haired man was laughing as He clapped him on the shoulder. “It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.” His voice was deep and comforting. Dean’s voice. Dean.

 

Thinking about Dean helps calm him when he has one of his panic attacks. He wonders who the man once was to him or if He is even real, not just some figment of his imagination. It’s not much, but after that first dream, he begins to spot Dean in some of his other nightmares. Dean defending him by bashing a man who’s attacking him over the head with an iron rod. Dean watching as he chops off a man’s ring finger. Dean staring at him in disappointment, watching as he’s trapped in a ring of fire. He can’t decide what’s worse, having Dean in the nightmares or not having him there at all.

 

………………

 

He hated being cooped up in the hospital all the time. They wanted him to stay in under observation for a while as his battered body was still healing from the heavy injuries he’d had when they found him in the lake. At least, that was what they told him. Their forbidding Amelia and Claire to see him for a while, under the pretext that he wasn’t strong enough to deal with it, told another story. Anytime he saw something that triggered a painful memory, however subconsciously, he had panic attacks or excruciatingly painful headaches. The strangest things set it off. Once, he’d nearly passed out when _Titanic_ was being screened on TV. Westerns weren’t particularly great, either, although he’d usually suffer through the headaches to watch those. Then there was what had become referred to as “The Pie Incident”, which the hospital staff seemed to have an unspoken pact never to talk about, ever.

 

Whenever one of his panic attacks happened, he became more determined to try and deal with whatever trauma had caused him to lose his memories. He started keeping a journal, noting down anything he remembered in passing about his history. Some of the things he supposedly remembered were undoubtedly fictional (he felt stupid for even considering at one point that he had brothers called Balthazar and Raphael), but it helped him organise his thoughts and made it feel like he was doing something at least. Whenever he remembered something that he had once liked doing, like eating burgers or watching documentaries, he would go out of his way to do those small things that were once normal parts of his life. That was why he initially made the decision to go to one of the church services that were held for hospital patients on Sundays. He knew he’d once been religious, a leader of his church community back in Pontiac. Church must have been something he’d taken strength from. Now seemed as good a time as any to rediscover that faith in religion. Another reason, one he couldn’t even dare to admit to himself, was that he wanted something to have faith in; some hope that he could be saved. He’d been going through one of his darker periods for the last day or so, worrying that he must have done awful things in his past life, and going to church to ask for forgiveness seemed to be a good solution.

 

In retrospect, his bleak outlook on life should have been his first clue that going to church was a bad idea. He barely made it through the first hymn. The hospital chapel was soon full of the sound of voices singing joyfully to the Lord, but he couldn’t bring himself to move his lips to sound out the familiar words:

“Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see;

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!”

Something in the chorus broke the dam of emotions that he’d desperately been trying to keep back. He curled in on himself, weeping silently, rocking back and forth with his head in his hands. His behaviour got him a few stares, but no one did anything to soothe his pain. That made him more angry than sad, so he pulled himself together and stalked out of the chapel, tears still streaming down his face. Once he was back in the safety of his room with no one around to judge him, he broke down properly.

 

He hated them. The hypocritical churchgoers who were so pious in public, but would never actually wish to follow Jesus’s teachings on helping the broken and vulnerable in this world. He supposed he hated God as well. He was supposed to care about his creation. If he really cared, he would be helping people, not holed up somewhere while innocent people suffered. He thought selfishly that he’d given everything once to trust in God and this was how he was repaid for it: barely managing to deal with post-traumatic stress and lacking his memories.

“You son of a bitch. I believed in you….” He whispered, voice full of emotion.

The choice of words seems all too familiar, but he just ignores it, caught up in his grief.

 

………………..

 

Finally, when his panic attacks have stopped being triggered so much, he’s allowed to see his family. Amelia and Claire look wary as they step into his room, like they don’t quite know what to expect. He’d been missing so long, after all, that they’d probably given up hope of ever seeing him again. He smiles at them reassuringly.

“Jimmy?” Amelia’s voice is full of pain and desperate hopefulness.

“It’s really me.” They still look unsure, disbelieving. Maybe it’s the lack of memories, he thinks. The DNA tests the doctors had done had confirmed that he was definitely Jimmy Novak instead of some stranger who looked like him, so that shouldn’t have been an issue. “I don’t know what they told you about my condition, but…I remember you. Only bits and pieces, but it’s enough. I’ve missed you both so much.”

Amelia starts to cry, and he gets up from his chair to go and comfort her, embracing her warmly. Next he turns to Claire, bending down so he’s at eye-level with her. _I’m not your father_. He pushes away the half-forgotten memory, not wanting to think about whatever painful situation had made him want to say those words.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“It’s over? You’re not going to leave again? He…he’s not going to take you away?”

That sounded ominous. Clearly Amelia and Claire knew more than people suspected about what had happened to him when he’d disappeared. He didn’t want to worry about that now, though. He had his family back. Everything else was unimportant.

“I’m never going to leave again. I promise.” Jimmy smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

It was easier than Jimmy had predicted for him to slip back into some semblance of a normal apple-pie life. Every day, the Novaks would go a step further to rebuilding the bridges that his disappearance had torn down. Jimmy couldn’t help smiling the first time Claire felt comfortable enough to call him “Dad” after they read her favourite book together one night or when Amelia handed back his wedding ring that he’d left behind that night he’d disappeared. He got a job selling ad-time for the local radio station, as he’d done before. The work was monotonous, but he found a simple pleasure in earning money to help his family. Amelia worked at a florists’ shop round the corner, and they would meet during their lunch breaks for a few stolen moments. Jimmy would pick Claire up from school, and then they would eat the dinner prepared by Amelia together. By unspoken agreement, they never said grace. During the weekends, they’d usually drive down to the local park and have a picnic or sometimes go see a movie. Admittedly there was still always an element of distance between him and his family.

 

The no-man’s land that separated Amelia and Jimmy as they slept on opposite sides of their double bed, not daring to come too close to each other, was evidence enough of that.

 

Once, Amelia had tried to cross that divide.

 

It was a few weeks after he’d moved in with them. Claire was staying at a friend’s. Jimmy had taken Amelia out for dinner in an attempt to reconnect with the wife he couldn’t remember. Things had gone well, better than either of them could have expected. They’d both had a little too much wine so were in that light, giddy stage of being tipsy where anything seems possible. Or at least, Amelia was. Jimmy’s alcohol tolerance had improved significantly over the years he was missing. Once they’d stumbled in the front door, Amelia was positively glowing with happiness. If Jimmy tried, he could almost see the emotions pouring off her. Disbelief, that the man she loved had come back to her. Sadness, at the years when she had missed him so desperately. Joy, they were now a family again. Lust. Amelia pulled Jimmy into a warm embrace and kissed him passionately, her hands resting against his chest.

 

Jimmy froze.

 

He wanted this.

 

Or, at least, he should want this. Amelia was his wife and he loved her. Didn’t he?

 

He thought back on the last few weeks. They’d got on perfectly well with each other. He’d enjoyed laughing with her over the latest stupid scheme their bosses had concocted. Managing their house together had been satisfying. There was regard there certainly, definitely friendship. But love? No. There had always been something missing. Something Amelia couldn’t give him.

 

Taking Jimmy’s silence for acquiescence, Amelia started to unbutton his shirt with gentle fingers. That was enough to force him to act. Resting his hands lightly on top of hers, he removed Amelia’s hands from where they had gripped onto the neatly pressed cotton.

“No. I’m sorry, Amelia, but I can’t do this.”

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, failing to take in his words.

“I’m not ready…I can’t…” He stumbled over the words, begging her to understand.

She did. Carefully, she buttoned up his shirt and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting. When you’re ready.” Her voice was soft and full of so much love. He knew that he’d never be ready, that he’d never want that from her, but he nodded his agreement anyway. He hated himself for that. He knew she deserved better than this.

 

As she walked away, he tried not to think about a pair of green eyes that had been haunting his dreams.

 

……………………

 

They say bad luck always comes in threes. Bad scenario number two came in the form of Zeke, Jimmy’s new boss at the radio station. In a past life, Zeke had been a used car dealer who was forced to give that up when disgruntled customers started to notice that none of the cars he sold lasted more than a few miles without a major overhaul at a garage, conveniently provided by one of his relations, of course. He applied the same sleazy sales tactics to radio advertising, telling his employers that no lie was too big provided they got the sales figures he wanted.

 

Jimmy hated him. He hated the smarmy smirk Zeke always wore when charming new clients. He hated how Zeke would pretend to be chummy with his staff and then have no care about their livelihood the moment anyone asked him for a favour. Most of all, he hated the lies.

 

Finally, one day, Jimmy was pushed beyond his breaking point. Zeke had a disagreement with Eleanor, the woman who sat at the desk next to Jimmy’s. The two of them had formed a mutual bond by their exchanging exasperated looks every time one of Zeke’s orders from on high was proclaimed. Over time, Jimmy had found out more about her. Eleanor’s husband had left her a few months previously, so she was frantically juggling work hours with caring for her two children. She needed this job desperately. When her usual babysitter broke her leg, Eleanor went to Zeke’s office to ask for some time off to look after her children until day-care was available once more. Zeke not only refused, but when she continued to beg him, he fired Eleanor and said that he wouldn’t give her a good reference.

 

Once Jimmy had finished consoling Eleanor and promising her whatever help she needed, he stormed into Zeke’s office. As usual, his boss wasn’t working, but leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk and a sports magazine.

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” His voice was full of quiet rage. “You’ve got no right to treat people like that.”

“I don’t see what you’ve got to complain about. You’ve still got a job for the moment. If you want it to stay that way, I suggest you get the hell out my office.” Zeke only half-looked up from his magazine, which just fuelled Jimmy’s anger even more. He snatched it away and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash. Zeke’s eyes narrow. “You shouldn’t have done that, Novak.”

Jimmy held his gaze. “I don’t care what you think of me. I care that you’ve made an innocent woman suffer. Eleanor will be unable to find a job if you don’t give her a reference. If you’re so determined to fire her, at least do that.”

Zeke sighed. “I don’t think you understand. If I agreed to help every idiot who came in here asking for some extra benefit, company profit would go down. If we don’t make enough money, employees have to be fired and then where would we all be? Trust me, it’s better for the majority if I don’t tolerate such lax attitudes.”

“Lies,” Jimmy hissed furiously, grabbing Zeke by his collar. His boss did his best to keep a veneer of indifference, but he couldn’t stop his eyes widening in terror. “All you do is tell a bunch of lies, you sick son of a bitch. It’s just a way for you to keep us all in line. Well, I’m not going to stand for it anymore. You know what’s really important? Not company profits. People, families, they’re what matter. So you’re going to give Eleanor a reference, or I’ll tell everyone who’s ever bought advertising airtime from me how you treat your staff. The company will never get any business again once that gets out. Do you understand me?”

“Yes…yes…I’ll do it…please don’t hurt me…” Zeke said faintly, his bravado disappearing rapidly in the face of Jimmy’s righteous anger.

“Good.” Jimmy dropped Zeke unceremoniously so he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He then walked out of the office to give Eleanor the good news.

 

………………

 

That night, he dreamt of Dean again. Since Jimmy had come home, the dreams had been more irregular with only brief glimpses of the green-eyed man. He would usually wake before Dean could speak more than a few sentences to him. Tonight was different, though.

 

They were both standing in an ornate room decorated with gold plate and Renaissance paintings. He knew that he was reliving an old memory as the tense posture of his body and his mouth’s refusal to smile was at odds with the joy he felt inwardly at seeing Dean again. Dean had His back to him, a phone clutched tightly in His hand. “What are you going to do to Sam?”

Jimmy’s voice was deliberately lacking in emotion when he replied, although he could feel his overwhelming sadness at Dean’s pain. He moved so he was standing next to Dean, able to see the quiet fury on the other man’s face. “Nothing. He’s going to do it to himself.”

Dean just looked all the more furious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimmy just looked ashamedly at the floor. A storm of emotions that were not his own overwhelmed him. He knew he couldn’t show any sign of weakness. He had his orders. Dean wasn’t to leave the room. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t help Dean. If he did, they would all be damned. Dean, as usual, noticed his reluctance. He came forward to stand right in Jimmy’s personal space. There was a tension between them which was at odds with the usual comradery which dominated their partnership. He knew Dean was going to fight him on this. Part of him wanted Him to.

“Oh, right. Got to toe the company line. Why are you here, Cas?”

 _Cas?_ That’s not his name. Jimmy’s attention was temporarily wrenched away from the moment. Dean couldn’t be referring to anyone else, though. He wants to ask Him for an explanation, but his mouth doesn’t form the words.

Instead, he said sorrowfully, “We’ve been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I’m sorry it ended like this.”

 _No, Dean…Dean..._ He tried again to form the words, but his mouth isn’t his own. His body is moving of its own accord, and he is powerless to stop it. The realisation is enough to break something inside of him. Jimmy screams inside his own head, but no one hears. The scene goes on.

Dean looked outraged at his words. “Sorry?” He punched Jimmy in the face, and Jimmy felt his head turn to one side so his face didn’t receive the full impact of the blow. The punch should have knocked him over, but he felt nothing.

Jimmy tried to call out to Dean again, but again, nothing happened.

Dean spoke once more as he flexed his hand in pain from the punch, “It’s Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than sorry.”

“Try to understand, this is long foretold. This is your…” Jimmy knew full well that he (or the person in control of his body) was just using weak excuses now, and Dean knew it too, indignantly interrupting his attempt at justification.

“Destiny? Don't give me that holy crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families - that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?”

Forced to experience the scene from inside his own head and with no ability to intervene, Jimmy was cheering for Dean. He knew that every word of it is true. But whatever sick bastard is in control of his body, he doesn’t care. “What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam.”

Dean edged closer into him, their faces only inches apart. It wouldn’t take much for Jimmy to lean over and kiss him. Jimmy quickly squashes the treacherous urge. Dean’s voice is quiet and full of emotion. “You can take your peace and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it.”

Jimmy’s body turned away and he was glad of it. He didn’t want to be forced to face Dean. He couldn’t bear to see Dean look at him with such disappointment. _I’m sorry…I wanted to help you. I just wasn’t strong enough._

Dean grabbed his shoulder and stopped him, though. “Hey, look at me!” The touch felt warm on his skin as Jimmy was forcibly turned back to face Dean.

“You know it! You were going to help me once, weren't you? You were going to warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me. Now. Please.” Dean was practically begging now. They both knew it.

Cautiously, his voice replied, “What would you have me do?” _Help Dean, help Dean, help Dean,_ Jimmy’s mind was screaming on repeat. _Just help him, you stupid bastard. He needs you!_

“Get me to Sam. We can stop this before it's too late.” Dean said urgently, seizing the small advantage Jimmy (or the person controlling him) had given Him.

“I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed.”

“If there is anything worth dying for... this is it.”

Jimmy shook his head and looked down, but internally he knew that Dean’s nearly there, that He’s nearly broken any resolve Jimmy ever had to resist him. Dean didn’t realise that, though, merely looking at Jimmy with a look of utter disgust.

“You spineless, soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're done.” Dean turned his back on Jimmy and walked away. That was enough to send a spasm of guilt through Jimmy’s stomach.

“Dean…” Both Jimmy and his body are of one mind now. They’re pleading with him. _Don’t reject me. Anything but this. Please._

Dean’s resolve is set, though. “We're done!”

Jimmy wakes up screaming Dean’s name.

 

…………………………

 

Amelia turns over to look at him, her face full of concern. “Jimmy?”

He can’t look at her now, not after this. His head is still full of the dream and Dean’s face when he was pleading, begging him for help. “It’s nothing…just a bad dream.”

She can see it is more than that, though. Quietly, her voice barely a whisper, she asks, “You saw him, didn’t you? Dean Winchester.”

“You know Dean?” He can’t quite believe it. He’s spent days puzzling over the enigma of who Dean was, and Amelia has had the answer all this time. “Tell me, who is he?”

Amelia doesn’t look him in the eye. “No one important.”

That’s a lie. Dean is far more than that. He can see it from the pain in her eyes. He knows it from the way his stomach churns every time the other man’s name is mentioned, no matter how much he tries to crush the feeling.

“Please…I need to know.” Jimmy cups her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him, begging her to give him the answers he so desperately needs. “I didn’t think you’d remember them…You only knew them for a couple of hours…Claire said that Castiel wouldn’t have let you see any of it…” She speaks nervously, afraid of something. Or someone. “He’s not coming to take you away again. He can’t. Not now. I can’t lose you again.”

 

That is the moment when Jimmy realises what is going on.

 

He’d always suspected that these dreams were memories. The details were too clear to be anything else. But the decisions he is making in them, they were choices he’d never make, no matter what. Somehow, these are not his memories, but someone else’s. They’re Cas’s memories. Castiel.

 

He remembers the FBI agents, how they’d talked about Amelia giving a tip-off about someone called Castiel. Someone who looks exactly like him. He remembers how Amelia insisted on dousing him with water and cutting his arm with silver when he got home and how she refused to explain why, except to say, “I just wanted to be sure”. He remembers the stash of books on the supernatural which he’d found stored under Amelia’s bed and that all the pages on possession had been marked with neat sticky notes. At the time, he’d thought she was crazy, researching increasingly crazy theories for what had happened to him, but now he knew.

 

“Tell me about Castiel.”


	4. Chapter 4

Something inside of Jimmy died when she told him.

 

He hated himself for being stupid enough to leave his family just because some angel had told him that he was special, that God had plans for him. He might have known it was all too good to be true. He hated Sam and Dean Winchester, too. Or at least, he wanted to. They hadn’t even tried to save him, just stood back and watched as Castiel possessed him yet again. The way Dean looked at him, he thought maybe…but it wasn’t him Dean had been staring at. It was Castiel. The jackass who had possessed him. The one he hated most of all. He didn’t know much about what the angel had done in his body, only what Amelia could tell him and from the pictures on the news, but that was enough to disgust him. It might not have technically been him who had done those awful things yet that wasn’t enough to stop him from feeling guilty.

 

After that, Jimmy didn’t get the dreams of Castiel’s memories anymore. Instead, he was plagued by a recurring nightmare. Every night, he dreamt that he was trapped, surrounded by an oily blackness. Thousands of voices screamed inside his head, demanding their freedom. He tried to stop them. He couldn’t let them escape. It was too important not to. He could always faintly hear Dean yelling, begging him to hold on. But every night, he wasn’t strong enough.

 

Dean’s voice would have been more of a comfort, if he hadn’t always been screaming for Castiel.

 

…………………

 

For the most part, it was easiest not to talk about it. The Novaks continued on as normal with their apple-pie life. And if Jimmy was violently sick most mornings from the dreams, that seemed like a small price to pay for having their family back together. Eventually, though, the mystery of Castiel and what had happened to him soon reared its ugly head.

 

Jimmy had just been to pick Claire up from school. It was a warm day and the sun was shining, so they decided to walk a couple of blocks to go to Claire’s favourite ice cream parlour before heading home. Claire had been so excited, chatting away about the science project she’d been working on. When he’d first returned, Claire hadn’t smiled much. What Castiel had done to her, done to her family, had torn her apart. Slowly, though, she was starting to recover, especially when it became obvious that Jimmy wasn’t going to leave again. She was smiling now, a warm grin that lit up her entire being. Jimmy was busy watching her and enjoying the rare moment. So busy that he wasn’t paying full attention. He wasn’t quick enough to stop her as she moved into the road ahead of him, straight into the path of an oncoming car.

 

The swerving of brakes. Someone screaming. Claire’s face, unnaturally pale and still. Blood pouring out of her side.

 

Jimmy knelt down beside her, cradling his daughter in his arms. She barely stirred as he put his arms around her. Not daring to think about what he could find, he checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there was something. She wouldn’t last long, though. She’d lost too much blood already to realistically recover. Tears began to pour from Jimmy’s eyes.

 

_Every moment that I'm with you, you and Claire are in danger…_

 

_Castiel, you son of a bitch! You promised me my family would be okay. You promised you were gonna take care of them…_

 

Claire, smiling at him across the dinner table. The way she pursed her lips when concentrating. Her telling him that she’d prayed every night that one day, he’d come home.

 

After everything, to lose her to a simple car accident hardly seemed fair.

 

“Dammit, Claire! You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it.” He put his hand over the gash on her chest from where the car had hit her, wishing that he could just heal her, like Castiel would have been able to. Not that the asshole would have cared about Claire or any of the Novaks except as vessels, of course. They’d learnt that lesson long ago. “I love you so much, okay? I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”

Claire just smiled faintly back at him, too weak to summon the strength to speak.

He was so busy looking at her that he didn’t notice the white light which started to spread from his hand across her chest, knitting flesh and bone back together. Claire blinked a few times in surprise as she felt the pain receding and looked down at her torso. “Dad…I think I’m going to be okay.”

He followed the direction of her gaze and gasped. It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible…

Claire’s wounds soon were non-existent, and the only sign that something untoward had happened was the blood on her ripped t-shirt.

 

The driver of the car, who had got out to see the damage he’d caused, gazed on in astonishment and crossed himself. “How in God’s name did you do that?”

Jimmy turned to him, pleased to note there were no other witnesses to what had happened, as he helped Claire to her feet. He couldn’t afford for this to get out. The last thing he needed was for demons or angels to hunt his family down again. They’d think he could still be useful. Especially if he still had some angel powers. The man seemed to have some faith. Maybe he could use that to convince him not to question what had happened. He did his best to look imposing, modelling his expression on what he could remember Castiel doing when full of righteous zeal. “You shouldn’t question miracles.”

The driver smiled a little bitterly, “Sorry, but that’s kinda my job, pal.”

Only then did Jimmy notice the devil’s trap tattoo peeking out from under the man’s shirt, the same as the one Dean had. The man surreptitiously trying to reach for the silver knife stashed in his army coat pocket just reaffirmed his judgement. “You’re a hunter.”

Any pretence of normalcy was now gone. The man pulled out his knife quickly, assuming a defensive stance. “Tell me how you healed the girl or this knife will find a nice new home in your stomach.”

Jimmy held up his hands in a peace-making gesture. “Relax, there’s no danger. I don’t want to hurt you. To be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I just wanted to save my daughter.”

“Then how do you know about hunters?” The man narrowed his eyes, showing no sign of surrendering.

“My family…we were attacked a while ago. Some hunters helped us. Dean and Sam Winchester.” The man nodded faintly in recognition of the names. “I can promise you that there’s nothing supernatural at work here. Or at least, nothing malevolent. If you wish to do the usual tests, I would be more than happy to comply.”

After a moment’s pause, the man relaxed a little. “I’ll agree to that. But if you’re double-crossing me, don’t think I won’t have the guts to kill you. What’s your name, anyway?”

_I’m Castiel, an angel of the Lord._

_Wings flashed against a barn door._

_Jimmy, my name’s Jimmy._

_Vessel, chained to a comet._

“Emmanuel.” It’s the first name he can think of. He knows he can’t say his real name. Once the hunter is sure he’s dealing with a human, he’ll leave Jimmy alone. If word got back to the Winchesters about exactly who he’d met, though, Jimmy might be at risk again. He can’t afford that. Emmanuel, “God with us”. A somewhat ironic choice, but no matter. If it was enough to protect his family, that was good enough for him.

 

The hunter quickly cut both Jimmy and Claire with the silver knife and made them drink holy water, not to mention undergoing several other tests that Jimmy had never even heard of for signs of supernatural activity. When he was finished, he looked at Jimmy, a little awestruck. “Well, in all my years of hunting, I never thought I’d see something like that. Faith healing’s usually just a load of bullshit, someone controlling reapers or other dark magic, but looks like you’re the real deal.”

“Believe me; it’s as much of a mystery to me as it is to you.” Jimmy smiled faintly. He then examined the other man closely. “Wait, there’s something troubling you, isn’t there? Your right eye…something’s wrong with it.”

The man’s jaw dropped a little. “How the hell did you…”

Jimmy cut him off. “I don’t know if it’ll work again, but I can try. You seem like a good man. You don’t deserve to lose your sight.” Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand over the man’s eye. The white light appeared again. Once it faded, Jimmy instinctively knew that the eye had been healed.

The man smiled broadly at him and held out a hand. “Thanks for that. Seems like I owe you one.”

“It was nothing. You took the time to listen to me before attacking. I am as much in your debt for that.” Jimmy shook the man’s hand firmly.

“Look, if you have any more trouble with hunters after something like this, tell them to come and speak to me. The name’s Mackey. I was good friends with Bobby Singer. He’s dead now, of course, but they’ll still listen to me.”

Bobby Singer…An image of a bearded man with a sour expression and a trucker’s cap appeared in Jimmy’s mind’s eye, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by grief, although he didn’t quite know why. Remnants of Castiel, probably. Another one of Castiel’s messes that the angel hadn’t bothered to fix.

“He was friends with the Winchesters, wasn’t he?” Jimmy tilted his head slightly as he examined the other man. It was the most obvious solution.

“Yeah, Bobby was like a father to those boys. I think his death must’ve hit them hard. No one’s heard from them in ages.”

“That’s a pity. They seemed like good men when I knew them. They didn’t deserve that burden of grief.”

 

As he said goodbye to Mackey, Jimmy tried not to worry too much about the Winchesters. They weren’t his friends, after all. They were Castiel’s. No matter what he wanted, they would only ever see him as a vessel. The Winchesters were as responsible for his kidnap as the angel was. Why should he care what had happened to them?

 

But whatever he told himself, he couldn’t help but care. When he’d been stuck in that hospital for days on end, lost and scared, the fleeting moments of seeing Dean in his dreams had been one of the only things to keep him going. He might have lost his faith in God, but that had been replaced by an even greater belief in Dean Winchester. The other man had staked a claim on Jimmy’s emotions far more powerful than anyone had ever managed before. It terrified him sometimes just how much Dean mattered to him. Even if it would just bring him pain, even if Dean only cared about Cas, Jimmy couldn’t shake that feeling. Even if he could, he didn’t want to.

 

………………

 

“You healed her?” Amelia paced to and fro, her face full of worry. After he’d packed Claire off to bed to rest after her ordeal, Jimmy had related to his wife what had happened. “You don’t think…?”

“It’s not him. It wasn’t like before. I didn’t hear him speaking to me. Claire says she didn’t either. He’s not coming back.” He tried to reassure her. “Maybe it was some left-over power from when I was a vessel or something.”

“You can’t know that. None of us can know that for sure.” Amelia refused to be soothed.

“Even if he does come back, it doesn’t matter. You told me that he needs my consent, correct? I’m not going to agree again. Claire won’t agree. I’m not letting him destroy my family again.”

“You might not be able to stop him. He’s an angel, Jimmy. We both know what he did. All those people, murdered just because he thought he could be God. He’s not going to care about hurting us if it gets him what he wants.”

Jimmy put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, stopping Amelia’s pacing. “Then we’ll find a way. I remember things, only fragments, but still. There’s got to be ways of stopping angels. If only I could remember…”

“You’re doing more than enough just by being here. But you’re right, we’ll fix this. Together.” Amelia pressed in close to him. He kissed her tenderly on the head, trying to feel as certain as he sounded that everything would turn out alright.

 

……………………

 

Every free moment they had, Amelia and Jimmy poured over texts on supernatural lore, frantically looking for some way to fight angels. Claire helped as well. She and Jimmy wrote down everything they could remember from their time as Castiel’s vessels. In the end, they didn’t have much, but Jimmy was confident that it would be enough to stop the angel. The trouble was, though, that when the threat arose, it wasn’t from angels. In all their panic about Castiel, demons had been completely forgotten. That was a mistake.

 

Jimmy arrived home from work a little later than usual on the day it happened or he would have been captured, too. Instead, he could sense that something wasn’t right as he approached the house. There was a faint smell as well as he approached the gate. Sulphur. Quietly cursing under his breath, Jimmy slipped round to the backyard of the house, intending to enter through the back door. Even if he was detected, he at least might be able to grab some salt from the kitchen. Then they might have a fighting chance. As he snuck into the kitchen, he could hear voices distantly from the front room. If he focused hard enough, he could hear a little of what they were saying.

 

“Where’s Emmanuel?” A man’s voice. Cold, unfeeling.

“I…I don’t know…I’ve never heard of anyone called Emmanuel. Please, just let me go. I can’t help you.” Amelia sounded absolutely petrified. God only knew how long she’d been trapped as a captive. Jimmy felt sick to his stomach.

“I’m only going to ask nicely one more time. Tell me where Emmanuel is and then maybe I won’t have to wreck that pretty face of yours.”

“We don’t know, okay! No one called Emmanuel lives here.” Claire was defiant. “Whatever you do to us, we’ll still keep saying the same thing.”

Another man spoke. “C’mon, it’s obvious these two don’t know anything. Those rumours must have been a pack of lies. We might as well just have some fun then go.”

 

Jimmy wasn’t going to wait to find out what their definition of fun was. Looking around the kitchen for something he could use as a weapon, his eyes alighted on a water pistol Claire and he had been messing around with a few days before. Perfect. He quickly filled it with water then poured in a sachet of salt. Bursting into the front room, he was confronted with Amelia and Claire tied to two of the lounge chairs. Two men loomed over them. To all appearances, they looked like two normal guys, but Jimmy knew better. A foul blackness and sense of wrongness emanated from the two men. He could see the soul rotting beneath the skin, crying out in agony at its past sufferings. He couldn’t help but shudder at the sight.

 

He didn’t waste any time dwelling on that, though, attacking them with the water pistol. They screamed in agony as the water splashed them, giving Jimmy the window he needed to rush over to his wife and daughter and quickly salt a protective circle around them so the demons could come no closer. That wouldn’t do much, just buy them more time, but he didn’t have the resources for much else. Frantically, Jimmy tried to remember an exorcism that would work on the demons, but his mind was blank. In desperation, he resorted to silently praying. Not to God, he’d given up on him long ago. _Dean…I know you can’t hear this. Even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to do anything. But I wish you were here. I wish you could help me. I…I need you._

 

The demons soon recovered from the salted water, leering menacingly at them. When their eyes alighted on Jimmy, though, their expressions changed to one of surprise. Dammit. It looked like they knew who he was.

“You…you’re supposed to be dead. The Leviathan got you.” One of them said finally. “The boss is gonna be pleased when we tell him that we tracked you down. He’s got great plans for you.”

“No!” Claire took her father’s hand. He could sense what she was about to do and tried to signal to her to be quiet, but she didn’t take any heed. “I’m a vessel, too. Take me instead. You’re not taking my dad away again.”

The demons just laughed mockingly. “As if. You seriously think we just want him ‘cause he’s a vessel? This is priceless. You can’t even see it…” The demon was cut off suddenly. A red glowing light flashed from his body, and Jimmy could see the twisted soul within finally be at peace. The other demon moved to attack the sudden interloper, but was quickly silenced as well. As the demon’s body fell to the floor, the Novaks got their first glimpse of their rescuer. They all stared in amazement.

 

Jimmy was the one to speak first. “Hello, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

For a while, they just stared at each other. The tension in the air was palpable.

Eventually Dean spoke. “Cas?” The hope in that one syllable was almost too much for Jimmy. He didn’t want to have to be the one to take that hope away, but he had to. “We thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I’m not Castiel. I’m Jimmy Novak. You probably don’t remember me…” He didn’t look Dean in the eye, but he could still see Dean doing his best to shut down all visible signs of emotion on his face.

“No, I remember you. You were Cas’s vessel. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said brokenly. Amelia took his hand and squeezed it gently, trying to soothe his pain away. “I can’t remember anything. Just flashes, and they’re not much. The first thing I remember was being hauled out of a lake in Kansas.”

Dean looked thoughtful when Jimmy mentioned his lack of memories, but said nothing.

Amelia soon filled the awkward silence. “He’s not coming away with you again, if that’s why you’re here. We can protect ourselves. Besides, our family has already paid enough because of you and your angel friend.”

“Believe me, hurting you guys after everything that you’ve been through is the last thing I want,” Dean said quietly. Jimmy could have sworn that the look on Dean’s face was one of pity. “I came here ‘cause a hunter told me there was some guy called Emmanuel who could heal people. I’m guessing that was you?” Jimmy nodded his assent as Dean continued, “Yeah, well, my brother, he’s not in a great way.”

“Sam? What happened to him?” Jimmy was immediately concerned.

“Well it’s not exactly medical…”

“So, a spiritual ailment, then? I don’t know what the extent of my healing abilities are, but I can try. I want to help.”

 

Dean looked a little surprised at his ready acceptance, whilst Amelia seemed less than impressed. “Jimmy, can we speak for a second?” She led him through to the kitchen so they wouldn’t be overheard by Dean. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Ames, please calm down. I must have these abilities for a reason. This is a blessing. I might as well do something with it.”

Amelia choked back a sob, “This is just like before…If you go with him, Jimmy, how can I ever be sure I’ll see you again? You said you were special then, too, that God had chosen you.”

“Have faith. I will return to you. I promise. At least give me a chance to speak to him to find out what the problem is.”

“You had better do. I don’t think I could handle losing you again.”

Jimmy leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. She was shaking, but calmed a little at his touch. “Thank you for understanding. You won’t regret this.”

 

He came back through to the sitting room where Dean and Claire were standing in awkward silence. “Hey, baby,” Jimmy ruffled his daughter’s hair affectionately. “Can you go through and help your mother? She’s a little upset, and I need to speak to Dean for a few minutes.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’d rather stay here.”

“Please, Claire. Don’t make this difficult for me. It’ll only be for a few minutes,” Jimmy said more authoritatively. She left the room reluctantly, Dean watching her go with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got a great family.”

“I know.” Jimmy smiled. “I have a good life here. I’m lucky to have them.”

“It doesn’t faze you, not remembering anything?”

“Sometimes…” _Like when I feel nothing more than friendship for my wife, but all it takes is a few minutes in the same room as you for my heart to pound a little faster_. “I manage fine enough, though, and they accept me, which is all that matters, I suppose.”

There was an awkward pause. Jimmy was the first to break the silence.

“You were saying about Sam before? What’s his diagnosis?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, someone did this to him. It’s kinda hard to explain, but dude broke my brother’s head.”

It didn’t take much for Jimmy to guess what had happened. “Castiel?” Dean’s refusal to look him in the eye was all the answer he needed. “When we met, you thought I was Castiel. What happened to him?”

“You must’ve seen the news. The guy claimed he was God. Killed a ton-load of people, betrayed us and worked with a demon behind our backs.” Dean shrugged. “He got in too deep, though. He got all that juice by absorbing souls from Purgatory. Trouble was, some of those were Leviathan, and they’re seriously bad motherfuckers. At the end, they took over his body. Last I saw of him, he waded into some lake, and we didn’t see him come up for air.”

Jimmy remembered his dreams, the teeming mass of darkness demanding its freedom. Leviathan. He shuddered. “So he’s dead?”

“Honestly, I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this whole thing couldn't be messier.” It sounded like Dean was choosing his words with care. “You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but I always could. What Cas did... I just can't. I don't know why.”

“He was your friend.” _And judging by the way you looked at him in the memories I have, he meant more than that to you_. “You’re not a machine, Dean. You’re human. It’s alright for you to grieve his absence.”

Dean nodded in agreement, but if anything, just looked more uncomfortable. Not for the first time, Jimmy hated how all that the hunter could see when he looked at him was Castiel, not Jimmy Novak.

“If you want to help Sam, you’ll have to come with me to Indiana. He’s shut up in some mental hospital there. You think your folks’ll be fine with that?”

“I think so. They know I’m not going to leave again if I can help it.” Jimmy shrugged. Any difficulties on that score, he was more than prepared to deal with. Dean needed his help. That was his priority. “We should set off as soon as possible if Sam is in dire straits. I suggest we have dinner here then leave.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean agreed, then smiled faintly at him. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do this. I really appreciate it.” “He’s your brother, and you don’t want him to get hurt. If I had siblings, I would do the same.”

 

 

……………………

 

In retrospect, inviting Dean to dinner was a bad idea.

 

Amelia and Claire sat flanking Jimmy on either side, glaring at Dean whenever their trip to see Sam was mentioned. He didn’t blame them, but it made for an incredibly awkward atmosphere. At least Dean was an interesting dinner guest. After Jimmy started asking some probing questions, Dean began to explain a little about the situation with the Leviathans and how they should protect themselves. It did make Jimmy more furious at Castiel for all the damage he’d caused, but talking about it seemed to lift a weight from Dean’s shoulders, which was something. Jimmy supposed that with Sam suffering from hallucinations, Dean hadn’t wanted to burden his brother any more than necessary by talking about what had happened, and most of the Winchesters’ friends were dead, so there was no one else he could confide in.

“What do you think your chances are?” Jimmy asked when Dean had finished his narrative.

“Not great, I guess. There’s thousands of the dicks, and they’re a bitch to take down. Still, Sammy and I’ll manage. We always do.”

“You don’t think you’ll survive.” Dean might be hiding it well, but Jimmy knew that his soul had given up all hope of coming out of this alive.

“As long as I manage to get Dick and his cronies, I’ll be okay with that.” Dean sighed. “Hell, I can’t even promise you that we’ll get to Sam okay. Those Leviathan are damn good at tracking people down. It’ll be dangerous.”

“It’s the right thing to do. Besides, I know you’re a skilled soldier. We’ll be perfectly fine.” The tension in the room had suddenly upped a few notches. Jimmy moved his hand to take Amelia’s under the table, trying to reassure her that everything would be alright. He needed to do something to lighten the mood. Remembering a dream he’d had about another life-or-death situation Dean and he had been stuck in, he grinned. “So you’re saying that you’re Thelma and I’m Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Dean practically choked on his mouthful of food, and Amelia looked a little shocked, glancing suspiciously between her husband and the hunter.

“When did you watch _Thelma and Louise_?” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“I’ve never seen it. I don’t even know what the plot is.” Jimmy shrugged. “I just heard it referenced once. The situation was similarly perilous so it seemed appropriate.”

“Yeah, that was a difficult day. I thought we were gonna get smited for sure.” Dean looked even more surprised. “You remember our going after Raphael?”

“I have dreams sometimes.” Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t told Amelia or Claire about the dreams. They’d seemed too personal to discuss. Besides, he hadn’t wanted to think too closely about why the only memories he seemed able to recover were moments Castiel had experienced with Dean. “That was one of them.”

“What else do you remember?” Dean's voice was soft.

Everyone was looking at him expectantly. He had no choice but to answer. “Very few of them are full memories, more like fragments. In one, there was an ornate room. You were yelling at me, or rather, at Castiel. It was something to do with Sam. Another time, we were walking down an alley together. Then maybe there was something to do with a children’s play park?”

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean muttered then stood up abruptly. “I need some air for a bit. Don’t wait on me.”

Once he’d stomped outside, Amelia turned to Jimmy. “You never dreamt of us?”

He couldn’t look at her pleading expression. “No. I can’t control the dreams. I’m sorry, Ames, I wish I could remember.” _I wish I remembered my family, instead of the guy who’s in love with the angel who possessed me. The man who I might possibly be in love with, even though every instinct is telling me not to be._

Jimmy moved to take her hand, but she pulled away, her face full of hurt. Claire had retreated into herself. He hadn’t seen her look this closed-off since he’d first returned from the hospital.

“Amelia, please…” She still wouldn’t face him. He sighed. “Alright. I’ll go outside and give you a moment.”

 

……………………

 

Only once he was standing on the porch did he realise that outside meant facing Dean. The hunter didn’t seem overly eager to see him, scarcely acknowledging his presence when he came to sit down on the steps up to the front door.

Eventually, Dean spoke, “You know all those memories were Cas’s, right?”

“Of course. Why else do you think I’m standing out here in the cold with you?”

Dean huffed a laugh at that. “Figures. They’ve got every reason to hate Cas. I get why, but it still sucks.”

“After everything he did, to both you and Sam, you still think of him as a friend?” Jimmy tilted his head in confusion, squinting at Dean.

Dean gulped nervously. “I…I don’t know. Yeah, he broke the world. I’m not gonna lie about that. But I want him back. He wanted to fix things in the end, you know. I just wish he’d got that chance.”

“Not that it matters. He’s gone now.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“You think Castiel’s still out there?”

“I know he is. Man, there’s no easy way to say this. But you need to know. It’s not fair on you or the Novaks.” Dean sighed, studiously not looking at him. “I couldn’t help asking what’d happened to Jimmy, you know, whether he’d ever get to go home. You told me he was dead, Cas. His soul got catapulted to Heaven when Raphael thought it’d be an awesome idea to blast you to pieces.”

 _Cas._ “I don’t understand…what are you trying to say? I’m not dead, Dean, I’m here with you. Castiel is the one who’s gone.”

“No, he’s not. You’re Castiel.” Dean finally turned and looked Jimmy in the eye. “I couldn’t be sure ‘till you said about those dreams, but I thought it was you all along. Jimmy’s dead, Cas. You’re not him. You can’t pretend anymore, it’s not fair on Jimmy Novak or his family.”

 

_Wings. Raising Dean from Hell. “I’m not a hammer. I have questions, I have doubts”. Defying Zachariah. Fighting against Lucifer. Civil War. Rachael, dead. Balthazar, dead. Raphael, dead. Countless more brothers and sisters’ lifeless bodies scattered around Heaven, struck down by his hand._

 

The rush of memories was overwhelming. Jimmy curled in on himself, desperately trying to shut them out. He tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths until finally his heart stopped pounding. He mentally pushed away the memories. They weren’t his. He didn’t want them. Whatever Dean said, he wasn’t Castiel. He would have remembered if he’d damned the world, wouldn’t he?

 

 _But you did remember, didn’t you?_ A small voice in the back of his head prompts him. _Why else did you only dream of Dean? You don’t love Amelia and Claire. At least, not like they were your family. You just don’t want to be Castiel. That’s what all this is about. You’re being a child and refusing to face the past. It’s easier to go play pretend and convince yourself that you’re poor dead Jimmy Novak._

 

 _I’m not Castiel. I’m not. I can’t be._ Jimmy thought over and over again, a desperate prayer. _Dean’s just lying. He wants his friend back. I’m not him, I’m not an angel._

 

Eventually, he reached a decision.

“Get out.” Jimmy’s voice was soft.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said, get out.” Jimmy would have given anything not to have to hurt Dean like this, but it was the only way. He couldn’t do this. “I don’t have to listen to this crap, so leave. Don’t ever bother me again.”

“Cas, please…If this is about opening up Purgatory…” Dean was begging him. They both knew it.

“It’s not. My family have been through enough already. We didn’t need you doing this on top of everything.”

Dean looked like he was going to protest, but then appeared to internally reach a decision. “Fine. If that’s what you want, go ahead. I’m at the Regal Motel a few blocks over if you change your mind.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Jimmy murmured, watching as the hunter walked off. Their eyes met for a moment as Dean glanced back, but Jimmy quickly tore away his gaze, turning back to go into the house.

 

He didn’t want to have to do this. By turning Dean away, he was leaving the hunter friendless to fight the Leviathans. Dean had made it clear that no one could heal Sam, but him. Jimmy tried to justify it to himself. He’d only ever healed physical injuries before. Who knew if he could have even helped Sam? By going, he would have just given the Winchesters false hope. And even if he had managed it, the Winchesters would only ever see him as Castiel. He would be forced to take responsibility for all that the angel had done. He wasn’t Castiel. He wasn’t. He shouldn’t be forced to carry that burden.

 

That didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, though. Dean’s haunted expression as he begged Jimmy to help him was imprinted in his memory. Jimmy quickly pushed the thought away. He couldn’t afford to think about Dean now. That wasn’t going to be enough to stop him, but he could at least try.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and for giving this story kudos! You're all the best and it's amazing to hear what you all think of this fic :D I happened to have a flood of inspiration so couldn't help, but update this much quicker than I'd originally anticipated. I don't know when I'll next be updating though as I've got my DCBB to edit (posting on November the 6th, insert casual self-promotion here) and the next chapter is proving impossible to write, but it shouldn't be much after my DCBB posts at latest.

Any hope Jimmy had of a brief respite was crushed when he entered the house to find Amelia waiting behind the door, arms folded and mouth pursed in a tight line.

“Ames, there’s no need to worry. Dean’s gone, and he’s never coming back. We can now…”

She quickly cut him off. “There’s no need to pretend anymore. I heard every word.”

“It’s not true. Dean was lying. He wants me to be Castiel, but I’m not. I can’t be.” He moved forward to take her hand, but she pulled away, face full of revulsion.

“Don’t touch me. You’re a sick bastard, you know that? Just when I thought what you did couldn’t get any worse, you show up here and pretend to be him. You know, I should have known all along. You don’t even look like my husband, let alone act like him.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess I wanted it to be true too badly. Well, it’s over now. I want you to get out of my house. Don’t ever come and bother us again.”

He wasn’t going to give up. Amelia and Claire were his family. Yes, he might not love them quite as much as he should, but they were all he had. “Amelia, please, don’t do this. I’m not pretending. I promise.”

“I’ll give you ten minutes to pack your bags and leave. Don’t expect me to be waiting here when you’re finished. I never want to see your face again.”

 

In a daze, Jimmy trudged upstairs and packed a duffle bag with a few assorted bits. True to her word, Amelia wasn’t there when he came downstairs. Instead, Claire was standing motionless at the doorway to the living room.

It was too much for him. Trying to hold back tears, he said, “Goodbye, Claire. I’m sorry. I know I promised I wouldn’t leave again. You will keep in touch, though? I don’t want to lose you.”

Claire just stared at him.

“You do know it’s really me, right?” Jimmy’s voice cracked a little. “I’m still your dad and I’ll always love you.”

“You’re not my father.” Her voice was cold and emotionless. Without a backwards glance, she turned her back on him and walked away.

 

Outside, it had started to rain. Without even realising what he was doing at first, Jimmy started walking the few blocks to Dean’s motel. He had nowhere else to go to.

 

……………………

 

Dean looked like he’d seen a ghost when Jimmy showed up soaking wet on his doorstep. In a way, Jimmy supposed, he had.

“Amelia heard everything. She kicked me out,” he said in answer to Dean’s wordless question. “I still don’t believe I’m him, you know. But that shouldn’t stop me from wanting to help you.”

“Oh. Well, you should come in then.” Dean moved aside to let Jimmy into the room, then glanced at the duffle bag he was carrying. “You got some dry stuff to change into?”

“I should be fine, thank you.”

 

Jimmy moved to head into the motel bathroom to change but found Dean standing in his way. They awkwardly stared at each other for a few moments before Dean stood aside. When he’d finally finished, Jimmy came out to see Dean standing with a tattered bundle in his arms, one he dimly recollected seeing lying on Dean’s bed when he’d first entered the room.

 

“I know you still think you’re Jimmy and everything, but I guess this was kinda his in the first place anyways.” Dean said hesitantly, offering the bundle to Jimmy. “Besides, you still look frozen. A coat’ll help you warm up.”

Jimmy cautiously unwrapped the heap of fabric to find an old tan coat, covered in the faded marks of blood and black goo. His old trenchcoat.

He looked up at Dean, surprised. “You kept it? After everything he did?”

“Like I said, you tried to fix it in the end, Cas.” Dean shifted his feet awkwardly.

“Please don’t call me that.” Jimmy frowned, but then softened slightly. “Thank you anyway, though. I appreciate it.” He slipped the coat on, noting how someone had obviously put in a great deal of effort in trying and failing to wash out the grime.

Dean looked nervous, as though he expected Jimmy to send him away again. “Shit, sorry. You are so like him, though, even if you don’t believe that I’m right about this.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Just please don’t act like I’m him again.”

 

That night, for once, Jimmy didn’t dream about Castiel’s memories. Instead, he was tormented with the memories of the hurt on Amelia’s face, Claire’s quiet hatred and refusal to acknowledge him. He would almost have preferred the usual dreams of the black darkness threatening to swallow him whole.

 

…………………………

 

“Why do you not want to be Cas so badly?” Dean asked as they breakfasted in the diner across the road from the motel. He’d called Jimmy “Cas” for the fourth time that morning, receiving the usual scowl of annoyance that accompanied such mistakes.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jimmy shrugged. “I’ve seen his memories. All those people, dead because of him. And you want me to just accept that? I would like to think I’d know about it if I’d done something so terrible.”

“Yeah, sure, Cas broke the world. I get that. I’m still bitter about it. If anyone else had done what you did, I would’ve stabbed them in the neck on principle. But you’re family. Family sticks together, no matter what.”

“You loved him.”

Jimmy hadn’t meant to say it. But seeing that far-off look in Dean’s eye when he talked about the angel, he couldn’t help it.

Immediately, Dean tensed up. “Listen, buddy, I sure as hell don’t swing that way, so you can quit implying crap you don’t know a thing about.”

“Don’t lie to me, Dean. I’ve seen how you used to look at him.”

“Yeah, well, you’re seeing things. Not like it matters what you think. You hate Cas’s guts so much you’ve even forgotten that you were him once.” Dean threw down some cash for the bill, hardly glancing at Jimmy as he stood up to leave. “We’d better get going. There’s a long drive ahead of us.”

Jimmy hesitated a moment before following him. As he watched Dean storm over to the Impala and climb into the front seat, he couldn’t help but think wistfully, _If you loved me and wanted me to stay, I think I could deal with being Castiel._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks once again for all your lovely comments and kudos on this fic. I'm absolutely loving writing this story and hearing that other people are enjoying it as well is just amazing. I'm a little nervous about this chapter as it's my first attempt at writing smut, but hopefully you enjoy it. If that isn't your kind of thing, it's just the last section so feel free to skim-read.

The memories were coming back to him. It was a slow process, yes, but piece by piece they had begun to reassemble themselves in his head. That didn’t mean that they felt like his own yet, though. Reliving scenes from his (or Castiel’s) past, Jimmy was still a passive observer, trapped inside his own head. A vessel.

 

Sometimes, he couldn’t help caring. Grieving for the dead. The Apocalypse and everything that had come after, all those poor souls damned because the archangels couldn’t settle their family differences. Castiel was hardly innocent, either, on that score. The angel had been only too happy to slaughter his closest siblings when they’d realised exactly what kind of game he was playing with Crowley. He’d tortured Eleanor Visyak, as good as killed her. He’d taken down Sam’s wall, exposed him to all the torments of Hell.

 

Jimmy still didn’t (or couldn’t) see himself as the angel. Dean’s theory did make sense, he had to admit. Why else would he have Castiel’s memories? Why else would he be able to heal people? Even Amelia had said that she saw no trace of Jimmy Novak in him, although that could have just been harsh words aimed to wound. Before, he had hated Castiel, had hated what the angel had done. Now, his reasons for holding back were different. He still hated Castiel’s actions, but now he could feel the angel’s own self-hatred for his deeds, had felt Castiel’s tears shed over the bodies of Balthazar and Rachael. Jimmy had thought Castiel to be cruel and selfish, but he wasn’t. Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem, not having too little feeling.

 

As Dean and he drove down Route 70 rushing to Sam’s aid, Jimmy saw one half of a love story. He saw it in Dean’s occasional longing looks at him, wishing for someone else to be sitting in the passenger seat, patiently enduring the car stereo blaring Led Zeppelin. He heard it in the hunter’s longing tone as he told stories about his and Cas’s former adventures, silently pleading for Jimmy to remember how to be that man again. He could feel it in the tender touch of Dean’s hand, when he occasionally patted Jimmy on the shoulder or when he grabbed his arm to lead him into a diner. Most of all, he knew from the smell of Dean on his trench coat from long nights spent holding it in a silent requiem for his lost friend.

 

Jimmy had thought it was unrequited. He was wrong. In Castiel’s memories, he saw a soldier trained for millennia to serve, to repress all emotions he had towards humanity. Such things were dangerous, he’d always been told. All it took was one look at Dean’s soul, as bright as an angel’s grace despite being surrounded by all the torments and darkness of Hell, and he was lost. Everything the angel had done had been for the hunter. Falling, Crowley, opening Purgatory, all of it had been done to keep Dean safe. Castiel had seen planets burst into life, civilisations rise and fall, but Jimmy knew how every time Dean smiled at him, the angel had never seen anything more beautiful. Castiel’s love was eternal, something terrifying in its boundlessness.

 

Jimmy couldn’t help but be scared of it. He felt a great deal for Dean, too, his one comfort during his many long dark nights of the soul. He could love Dean like Castiel did, if he didn’t already. Rejection was what scared him most. Dean not feeling the same way, Dean hating him if he couldn’t heal Sam, Dean only wanting him there to help take down the Leviathans. He didn’t want to fail Dean again. He couldn’t.

 

Being Jimmy Novak was safe. No one had any great expectations of him. This way, Dean could grieve him as a lost friend, not have to suffer the horror of hating the man he loved for his mistakes.

 

So Jimmy stayed for the moment. For Dean.

 

………………………

 

All too soon, it was nearly over. They’d just reached the outskirts of Indianapolis. Sam was only an hour or so away, but there was no point in continuing. It was too late and both Jimmy and Dean were exhausted. They found one of the grimy cheap motels favoured by the Winchesters, booking in a twin room after a somewhat awkward moment of the receptionist assuming they wanted a double. That led to Dean pointedly ignoring Jimmy for a while, as if to make the point that any suggestion that they were a couple was all lies.

 

They both knew this was their last night together. Dean would want to go off fighting Leviathans as soon as Sam was well, and he could hardly drag an amnesiac guy who could be his angelic ex-friend along with him. As for Jimmy, he didn’t know what he wanted. An end to all the fighting, he supposed. Even if he was Castiel and could put his abilities to some good use, he still didn’t want to get involved. Things were better like this. This way, he couldn’t do anyone any more harm.

 

“So, I guess this is it then,” Dean finally said awkwardly, addressing the elephant in the room. “You just want to sit here quietly, I guess?” He laughed a little bitterly at the joke he thought only he would understand.

“Just so long as you don’t try to take me to a den of iniquity like last time,” Jimmy replied without thinking.

“Oh. So you remember that too, huh? Wait, did you just…?” Dean looked a little startled as he realised the implications of that one simple word. _Me_. “Cas?”

“I…I don’t know…I remember everything, but I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’m him: I don’t know if I want to be.” _I don’t know if you want me to be him._

Anything else Jimmy was planning on saying was forgotten as Dean pulled him into a warm embrace. “Don’t you ever fucking die on me again, do you understand?” His voice was soft and low.

“Then you’ve forgiven me?” Jimmy tried, and failed, to hide his desperate hopefulness.

“No.” Dean pulled away from him. “I still think you were a stupid bastard for lying to me and betraying us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you here. I want you to help me fix it.”

 

Throughout their time together, Jimmy hadn’t been able to look at Dean. Not properly. He hadn’t wanted to see the lingering hurt of his betrayal in Dean’s eyes. But now, he chanced it.

 

Love.

 

That was all Jimmy could see. No hatred, no reproaches, just unconditional love. Agape. Dean’s soul was glowing with it, so much that it was almost painful to look at, even for an angel like him.

 

He had to risk it. Such love deserved an answer, however meagre.

 

Castiel leaned forward and kissed Dean.

 

Castiel had sung in the choirs of Heaven as the world was made. He had hung stars in the sky at God’s command, torn down cities, raised up mountains. His true being was higher than skyscrapers, his voice equal to the loudest roar of thunder, but he would give it all up just to be like this, wedded to a human body so he could press Dean Winchester tightly to him and call him his own.

 

Dean lost no time in responding, kissing Castiel back with equal urgency, sliding his tongue gently into the angel’s open mouth with a blissful moan. Dean’s kiss was an absolution, purging Cas’s sins, making him whole again. His saying the angel’s name, so long forgotten, a desperate prayer.

 

They pressed ever closer together. Castiel could feel the hard length of Dean’s cock against his thigh, could see the desperate want in the hunter’s eyes, dark with lust. He could feel his own inescapable heat, pressing down on him in the pit of his stomach. Dean ended the kiss by nibbling gently on Castiel’s lips, making the angel shudder. Cas began to unravel.

 

Castiel had always been told that angels shouldn’t feel, that it was dangerous to want. He was supposed to be the perfect warrior. Like a marble statue of one of the saints of old, immovable. That was why angels foolish enough to fall in love with humans and their mates, the sires of Nephilim, had to be punished. They had sinned, and the wages of sin were death. Castiel had never understood it then, how loving someone could be a sin. Now, trembling slightly in Dean’s arms, he realised the true meaning of the death sentences which fell on anyone who dared disobey. His superiors didn’t hate those feelings in themselves. They were simply afraid of them, of their all-consuming intensity.

 

Fumbling slightly, they started to undress each other. Cas smiled to see Dean’s familiar form, the body he had so lovingly pieced back together. There were changes that had happened since then, scars that he couldn’t heal, but even if he could, he didn’t want to. It was Dean’s imperfections that made him perfect, after all.

 

When they were finished stripping, Cas looked a little shyly at Dean. “Should I…or would you rather…?”

“This is your first time?” Dean seemed a little embarrassed as well, avoiding Castiel’s gaze. “There’s never been anyone else? Not even when you were with Amelia?”

“No, never. Amelia wanted to, but it just felt wrong. For me, it’s only ever been you.”

Dean smiled faintly at that. “You needn’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“You always do.”

 

It was different between them, like this, with them both naked in more ways than one. After this, there was no turning back. They couldn’t hide from each other anymore. Things would never be the same again. But that didn’t matter. So what if they were to die the next day fighting to save the world? So what if Castiel was forced to fall again for what they’d done or if they were hunted for their indiscretions? They would have had their taste of paradise, and they would have each other. A fallen angel and a high-school drop-out with just a few bucks to his name. And that would be enough. It would always be enough.

 

They surged together, Dean’s soul blazing like the sun and Castiel’s grace flaring in response. Castiel’s superiors had always expressed the opinion that Cas was lost to Heaven irrevocably the moment he laid a hand on the hunter’s soul in Hell. They were wrong. Cas was truly lost when Dean thrust himself inside Cas with a blissful moan, when he came on the bed sheets as Dean brought him to climax. That was when all the invisible barriers separating them vanished forever. They moved together in perfect unity, instinctively knowing what the other wanted. Two halves finally made complete, united in holy communion.

 

_And the two shall become one flesh, so then they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let not man tear asunder…_

 

All too soon, it was over. They lay back exhausted.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Dean. You can’t even begin to imagine…”

Dean smiled down at him, cupping his face tenderly in his hands. “How long?”

“Since that first day in Hell. I didn’t think you’d ever…”

“Me neither.” Dean laughed. “We’re such idiots.”

“You won’t get me disagreeing there, but you’re my idiot, and I love you.”

Dean froze slightly. Castiel should have predicted that. He knew Dean didn’t hear those words often, had never heard them since he was four and his normal life had gone up in flames.

“You don’t have to say it. Not yet. I’ll wait,” he reassured the hunter, who let out a sigh of relief.

“I will, one day. You know I feel that way, too, I just…I can’t,” Dean murmured. “If I say it, you’ll leave again. Everyone I love always leaves.”

“I won’t leave you. Not again. I promise.” Cas kissed him tenderly, sealing the covenant. The deal was struck. He’d broken enough promises to Dean in his time, but this was one he would not break. Not if he could help it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Apologies for taking a while with this chapter. DCBB posting and uni work sapped my energy for a while. Hopefully this is worth the wait. I've had this scene in mind since the start of writing this story so I hope I do it justice!

Castiel didn’t sleep that night. Now there was no longer the need to pretend to anyone, let alone himself, that he was human, sleep seemed like a waste of time. That didn’t stop him from lying next to Dean in bed, though, so close that their legs tangled together under the covers. After some tossing and turning, Dean eventually settled to rest with his head on Castiel’s chest, arms wrapped tight around the angel. He seemed to sleep better than he usually did, too, with no sign of the usual nightmares that Castiel had often tried to quell with his angelic powers.

 

It was nice, having the chance to watch Dean like this while he looked so peaceful. When he was resting like this, Castiel could almost imagine that he hadn’t undergone all the torments of Hell and had a normal life. He knew from Dean’s many protestations that watching someone while they slept was “creepy,” but like this, it felt like less of an intrusion. Like Dean wanted him there, watching over him. Like he was Dean’s guardian angel.

 

All fears Castiel had about any awkwardness because of the previous night’s activities was soon assuaged when Dean woke up the next morning and smiled sleepily at him, pulling him in close for a tender kiss. Nothing had changed between them, yet at the same time, everything was so different. They still focused on discussing Sam’s condition and ways to deal with the Leviathan crisis over their breakfast in the nearby diner as they would have done before. Dean still insisted on playing his favourite classic rock music in the car as they drove to the hospital, grinning as he sang along a little off-key to the music. What had changed were the little things. Dean holding Castiel’s hand as they walked along together. Castiel kissing Dean lightly on the cheek to reassure him as they waited to be escorted to Sam’s room. The fact that neither of them tried to avoid standing in each other’s personal space. Those little things made all the difference.

 

……………………

 

By silent agreement, they stopped holding hands as they were shown into Sam’s room. Dean shouldn’t have to worry about whether his brother approved of their new relationship or not when Sam’s life was at stake. Besides, even though Dean appeared willing to forget about what had happened, Castiel couldn’t see Sam being so forgiving. He broke Sam’s wall, left him soulless for over a year. Those were things that couldn’t just be ignored.

 

Even so, Castiel still regretted that decision when he saw the look on Dean’s face upon seeing his brother. Sam was curled up in the foetal position on his bed, hands over his ears. The doctor had told them that he’d had to be hand-cuffed to the bed, he’d been in such a state of distress. He wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping. Sam would be dead within days if they didn’t do something fast.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said quietly, gently sitting down beside his brother on the bed. “I said I was gonna find you help, remember? Well, looks like I was right about that.”

Sam made no response.

“I should never have broken your wall, Sam. I'm here to make it right.” Castiel placed a hand on Sam’s head, wanting to assess the damage.

Sam flinched away at the touch, looking at the angel with wide eyes. “You’re not real. Please, just stop this. Leave me alone.”

 

Closing his eyes and accessing his grace, Castiel looked deep into Sam’s mind and the turmoil he’d caused there. He could see it all. The visions of Hell. Lucifer’s mind games. How he couldn’t eat because any food appeared to be covered in maggots. How he couldn’t sleep due to Lucifer’s tortures. Sam wasn’t even really seeing Castiel before him. Instead, he saw Lucifer. No wonder he looked terrified. Castiel desperately searched about for any trace of the wall that had guarded the hunter’s Hell memories, but it was gone, washed away by the intensity of Sam’s hallucinations. There was no chance of salvaging it. Dean did his best to hide his emotions, but Castiel knew better than to believe that he wasn’t affected by the situation. He could see Dean’s soul, after all, see how deeply Sam’s condition hurt him. All hope was lost and it was all Castiel’s fault.

 

“Oh, Sam... I'm so sorry.”

 

…………………

 

Dean showed no signs of leaving until Castiel took his hand and guided him towards the door.

 

“So?” Dean asked immediately as soon as they were out of the room and stood no chance of Sam overhearing their conversation. “You can fix him, right?”

The hope in his eyes was almost painful to look at. “No. I can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean, you can't?”

“I mean there's nothing left to rebuild.”

“Why not?”

“Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever's happening inside his head right now.”

“So you're saying there's nothing? That he's gonna be like this until his candle blows out?”

Castiel can’t make himself look Dean in the eye. He doesn’t want to see the inevitable reproaches there. He can hear the anger in the other man’s voice, though, the bitterness. “I'm sorry. I would give anything to be able to heal your brother, but this isn't a problem I can make disappear. And you know that.”

“Fuck,” Dean swore quietly, starting to pace up and down the corridor, body tense with stress. “Everything’s gone to shit and now this. If my life wasn’t crap enough, my brother’s head just has to get broken as well. I can’t even have just one good thing in my life…” Castiel could sense his fury building, knew that it was only a matter of time before it turned against him. “Why the hell would you be so stupid? Couldn’t you see that cracking open Purgatory was a bad idea? You were the one who told me that Sam’s memories from Hell were dangerous as well. You should’ve known what’d happen to him if you broke his wall.”

“I…I was trying to protect you both.”

“Yeah, well, you did a pretty piss-poor job of that.” Dean laughed mirthlessly. “And now you can’t even help save Sam or the planet. Why the hell did God even bother to bring you back if you’re so useless?”

Castiel knew he didn’t mean it, that it was just righteous anger talking. That didn’t stop every word of it from being true, though. Dean stopped pacing. From the look on his face, he obviously regretted his words.

“Cas, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, Dean. You’re upset and rightly so.” Castiel said stiffly. “I’ll leave you to have some time alone with your brother.”

 

 

…………………

 

Old habits die hard. Castiel had lost any belief that his Father gave a damn about what happened to him or anyone else in the world long ago, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from heading to the hospital chapel to gather his thoughts. The only other person there was the chaplain, who was kneeling in silent prayer in front of the cross that dominated the room. He had a good soul, full of faith and trust in the Lord. In a way, Castiel envied him. He had never had such blind faith.

 

He’d tried to enter the chapel quietly, but the chaplain had obviously heard him as he quickly finished his prayer and got up to greet the new arrival.

“Don’t let me disturb your prayers. I just needed some time alone and here was as good a place as any.”

The chaplain inspected his appearance closely, taking in his haggard looks and trench coat, which had seen better days. “If you want to talk…”

“I don’t,” Castiel cut him off, somewhat more abruptly than he’d intended. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. It’s just…I don’t have the best relationship with organised religion.”

“You were a man of God once, though? Pardon me for asking, but seeking sanctuary in a chapel hardly seems a likely course of action for someone with no faith.”

“It’s complicated,” Castiel sighed, sitting down on one of the hard wooden pews. “I used to have such faith in my Father’s plan, but now…”

The chaplain sat down next to him. “What happened?”

The Apocalypse, the deal with Crowley, Sam’s wall crumbling, Leviathans. “I made mistakes. You can’t even begin to comprehend their magnitude. What I did, what I became…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix it.”

“I assume you’ve tried, then? To make up for them?”

“Every day.” Usually, Castiel would be wary of divulging so much, but something about the chaplain encouraged him to confide in the other man. “I try to atone for my wrong-doings, but I just make it worse every time. And now, a friend of mine is dying because of me, and I can’t save him. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve this fate after everything he’s been through.”

“You won’t be satisfied unless you do penance for your sins.”

The way the chaplain spoke, it sounded more like a statement than a question, but Castiel answered him anyway.

“Yes, I need to do penance for my actions. After everything I’ve done, I deserve some kind of punishment. That’s what this is, I suppose, some kind of retribution. Having to watch my friend die and be reviled by the one I love for my actions. I just wish that my sins were not visited on them. They should be my responsibility alone.”

“Then do penance. You won’t truly accept forgiveness from anyone else until you’ve forgiven yourself.”

Castiel thought of Amelia and Claire, how his misguided attempts to help them had merely caused them more pain. Of Sam, who now was tormented by Hell visions because he had been prideful enough to be so sure that he could heal him once it was all over. Of Dean…

“I don’t know how.”

The chaplain placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Castiel couldn’t help but be struck by how old his eyes seemed, as though he had seen as many centuries pass by as the angel had. “You say your friend is troubled because of your actions. Take on his burden. It’ll be hard at first, but you will deal with it. Maybe that’ll bring you the relief you seek.”

Take on Sam’s memories of Hell…It was certainly possible. Castiel knew that there was no way he could completely cure the problem, but its side effects wouldn’t put him in a life-threatening state like Sam. He could learn to manage. Even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. It was already obvious, both to him and Dean, that he was all but useless against the Leviathans. Sam was more important. He deserved to be saved, not Castiel.

“Thank you. That was what I needed to hear.” He shook the chaplain’s hand warmly.

“You’ve got a good heart, Castiel, sometimes too good. You shouldn’t blame yourself so much. Take care of yourself now.” The other man smiled, with a hint of sadness that went unnoticed by him. Too distracted with thoughts of how he could now help the Winchesters, Castiel barely registered his words.

He hurriedly headed to the chapel door, not bothering to glance back at the chaplain. Time was of the essence. With the condition he was in, Sam didn’t have long left to be saved. He didn’t see the chaplain look sadly after him or hear him murmur, “I’m sorry, my son.”

 

…………………

 

On his way back to Sam’s room, Castiel punched a long-familiar number into his phone. She didn’t pick up. He wouldn’t have expected her to. That didn’t stop him from waiting until he heard the usual voicemail.

 

“Hi, this is Claire Novak. I can’t pick up the phone now, but you can leave your message after the tone.”

 

“Hello, Claire. You were right before. I’m not your father. I don’t have the right to claim that title. I’m sorry for all that I have forced you and your mother to endure. These last few months especially, it was cruel of me to do that to you. In my defence, I believed that I was him as much as you both did, but I know that’s no excuse. I know it’s not much...but you should know that it wasn’t a lie. None of it was. I’m proud of you, Claire. If Jimmy could see you now, I think he would be proud of you, too. I just wanted you to know that before I…”

 

He put the phone down. A single tear trickled down his cheek.

 

……………………

 

The scene in Sam’s room had changed little since Castiel had last been there. Sam was still lying motionless on the bed. Dean sat next to him, face deliberately free of emotion, but it wasn’t hard for Castiel to see the cracks in his façade.

“I was wrong. I might not be able to heal Sam, but I may be able to shift the problem.”

Dean looked up at the sound of his voice, “Shift it?”

“Yes, it would get Sam back on his feet, at least.” Castiel sat down on the bed next to Sam and rested his hand on the other man’s forehead once more. “It's better this way. I'll be fine.” He was reassuring himself as much as he was comforting Dean.

The uncertainty in his tone did not go unnoticed by Dean. “Wait, Cas, what are you doing?”

He tried to pull Castiel’s hand away, but it was too late. Red tendrils spread up Castiel’s arm, the memories of hellfire shifting away from Sam. He could feel their poison starting to tear him apart from the inside. Faintly, he could hear Dean shouting, but the words were barely comprehensible to him.

“Dammit Cas! You’re gonna recover from this, do you hear me? I love you. I love you, you frigging child, and you are coming back to me if it’s the last thing you do. I can’t lose you again. Please don’t make me lose you again.”

His vision started to blur.

He was falling, falling into a sea of blackness.

Then, nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this one has taken a while. I just moved house and work on my Reverse Big Bang has kind of taken over in the little writing time I've had. Hopefully this one is worth the wait. As usual, comments are much appreciated :)

_Lucifer came first._

 

_Castiel had hidden somewhere deep inside his vessel, desperate to escape the visions of Hell, but it wasn’t enough. His brother could always find him, no matter where he ran to. And he would always come._

 

_Despite all the stories that humans had told about him over the years, Lucifer never lied._

 

_Lying would have been a kindness._

 

_If he’d lied, Castiel wouldn’t have had to hear how low he had stooped by setting himself up as a new God. He had defied his Father, broken all of his basic commandments. He’d become Lucifer’s successor. The Judas Iscariot who sold out his friends for power._

 

_Lucifer’s voice was soft and kind._

 

…………………

 

They took him to Rufus’s cabin. No way were they leaving him in that hospital, where Crowley and Leviathans and God knows what else could get at him and where no one was there to protect him. Dean carried Cas’s comatose body to the car, bridal style. As Dean tucked Cas into one of the cabin’s few beds, Sam could’ve sworn he saw his brother lean over and kiss Cas tenderly on the lips like he was hoping true love’s kiss would break the spell. It might’ve been funny, once. No one was laughing now, though. The angel didn’t wake.

 

 

………………………

 

_Michael was next._

 

_In some ways, seeing him was the easiest. His torments were of the physical variety. Whilst he was there, Castiel was too busy screaming from the holy fire that gnawed at his grace to care about his past mistakes._

 

……………………

 

The first few weeks were the worst.

 

They at least had some hope that Cas would wake up back then. Sam had only been comatose for a few days after his wall had come crashing down, after all. It stood to reason that it’d be the same for Cas.

 

Every day that Cas didn’t wake up, that hope gradually died.

 

Dean refused to move from Cas’s bedside. Sam wasn’t sure that Dean would have even bothered eating or sleeping if he hadn’t nagged him. He just sat there, holding Cas’s hand and talking softly to the angel.

 

Eventually, Sam challenged him on it. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I can see what’s going on with you and Cas.”

Dean scowled, dropping Cas’s hand and interrupting his vigil to glare at his brother, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously? You’re just going to pretend that you’re not madly in love with him? I have eyes, Dean. It’s not hard to notice.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’m not gay for the freaking angel, Sam. What the hell made you think…” Dean paused, coming to some kind of realisation. “Wait…you’re not freaking out.”

“Why would I freak out? I’ve known you two have a ‘profound bond’ for ages. I just wish you’d manned up sooner and told the guy how you feel about him.”

“Oh.” Dean blushed deeply. “About that…”

“No way.” Sam stared at him, stunned. “You’ve told him already, haven’t you? Dean, that’s fantastic! I knew things would work out between you two, and when Cas is better…”

“No. It’s not gonna work out. Don’t even bother thinking about it.” Sam lost some of his enthusiasm. “I don’t understand. Cas loves you, Dean. Why wouldn’t everything work out?”

“Because I’m the damn reason why he’s like this now!” Dean snapped. He was breathing heavily, face full of fury. “When we came into that hospital and saw how freaked out you were, Cas told me that there was no way to help you. I flipped out at him. Hell, I can’t even remember half the crap I said. To be honest, I don’t really want to. All I know is that it was bad. He didn’t even want to be in the same damn room as me afterwards. Probably realised that all he’s ever going to get from me is shit about things he can’t even control. Next thing I know, he’s come back and starts pulling whatever crap Lucifer left in you into himself. So don’t you dare pretend that he’s going to want anything to do with me, let alone have a relationship, after I pushed him to do a stunt like that.”

There was silence. Sam didn’t quite know what to say.

Eventually, he muttered, “I don’t think Cas felt pushed into helping me just ‘cause you were a bit of a dick to him. He’s seen us at our very worst. The Apocalypse wasn’t exactly a picnic, and it’s not like it was the first time we’ve given him a hard time about stuff. Maybe it was something else that was bothering him? After all, he’s the one who broke my wall in the first place. He probably felt guilty that he couldn’t fix it and did what he had to so I’d be okay.”

“And if I hadn’t been such an asshole, maybe he would’ve known that he didn’t have to feel so guilty about it. Don’t try to take the blame off me, Sam. This is my fault, and nothing you say is gonna change that.” Dean turned back to Cas, resting the angel’s hand in his and squeezing it gently.

Taking the gesture as a signal that the conversation was over, Sam sighed and left the room, dissatisfied with the situation yet not knowing how to resolve it.

When Dean was sure that Sam had gone, he leaned over and kissed Cas tenderly on the lips. “I’m sorry, Cas. Christ, I’m so sorry for making you feel you had to do this to yourself.”

A single tear fell from his eye.

 

………………………

 

_Balthazar._

 

_The faithful friend._

 

_“I warned you, Cassie, remember? You’ll never be able to stop the fighting. All you’ve done is make everything worse.”_

_“I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t mean to…”_

_“Yes, you did. You knew exactly what you were doing when you stabbed me in the back. Can’t blame that one on the Leviathans, can you?”_

_A gaping wound started to appear on Balthazar’s chest, his vessel’s blood and grace pouring out in a steady stream._

_“You did this to me, brother dear.” There was no anger in Balthazar’s eyes, only disappointment. “It’s funny…I always thought it’d be Raphy who would get me in the end, but it was you.”_

_The last of Balthazar’s essence poured out of him. Burnt wings stained the floor._

_Castiel wept._

 

………………………

 

After a month or so of just kicking around Rufus’s cabin and researching Leviathan activity, Sam finally snapped. “Look, man, I know Cas still isn’t better yet, but we’ve got to face facts. Sitting around here doing nothing isn’t helping anyone. Cas isn’t going to thank us when he wakes up to find out we’ve been ignoring cases just to keep an eye on him.”

Dean pursed his lips into a thin line. “We’re not leaving him here alone, Sam. Christ knows we can’t take him with us either.” Motel staff were hardly going to take kindly to two men who distinctly resembled the serial killers who’d gone on a murder spree a few months earlier showing up with a comatose body in the backseat of their car.

“I know. But we’ve got to at least do something.” Sam looked thoughtful. “I guess if we stumble across anything Leviathan related, one of us should go and check it out from now on while someone stays back here with Cas. Right now, we’ve no way of knowing what they’re planning.”

“Fine,” Dean agreed. He wasn’t happy about it, but Sam was right. They had no way of knowing how long it would be before Cas woke up. If he ever did.

 

Garth called a few days later, asking for help on a case. It seemed fairly straight-forward, just a salt and burn that hadn’t gone quite as expected. Dean had wanted Sam to take the case, but he’d just rolled his eyes and said that it’d do Dean good to get away for a few days. It had taken some persuading, but Dean had agreed. Sam would call him if anything happened with Cas.

 

Maybe a case which involved drinking shitloads of alcohol to even be able to see the shojo they were hunting wasn’t the best idea as a way of coping. Drinking helped numb the pain for a little while, made him forget everything that had happened, stopped him thinking about how he could’ve prevented it all if only he’d been smart enough to see the signs better.

 

Once he’d started drinking heavily again, it was nearly impossible to stop. Dean did his best to hide the bottles. If anyone were to find out how much alcohol he was going through a day, they might try to make him stop. Sam could still sense what was going on, though, and worried.

 

………………………

 

_“Heya, bro.” Gabriel’s wings were a mass of burnt feathers, a far cry from their former magnificence. “How’s it hanging?”_

_“Am I dead?”_

_He’d had enough time to dwell on exactly what he was experiencing to realise that it couldn’t just be whatever memories he’d taken from Sam: Sam’s memories of Hell were unlikely to have contained Balthazar or Gabriel or any of the other fallen siblings who haunted his every moment. He’d been close to death when Castiel had taken them away from him. It was plausible that Castiel wouldn’t have had the same strength to hold onto life._

_“Looks like you didn’t join MENSA while I was gone,” Gabriel chuckled. “I thought you’d have figured this out by now. C’mon, it’s not that hard.”_

_Castiel thought for a moment. “If I’m not dead…this must still be whatever was lurking behind Sam’s wall. But having you here, and Balthazar, those are my mistakes to feel guilty for, not Sam’s.”_

_Gabriel smiled sadly at him. Castiel could see a hint of the archangel he’d once known, the caring big brother who’d taught him how to fly, who had always had time for his younger, less powerful siblings._

_Encouraged, he continued, “Wait, those weren’t just memories behind the wall, were they? This is one of Lucifer’s schemes. A piece of his grace, left there to torment Sam into insanity.”_

_“Got it in one. Luci always was so petty when he didn’t get what he wanted.” Gabriel sighed. “Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you’re in your own personal circle of Hell in here. Anything you feel guilty about, all your past mistakes, they’re gonna haunt you for the rest of your life, even if you do manage to fight your way back to consciousness.”_

_They were quiet for a few moments, Castiel struggling to take it all in._

_“Why are you helping me?”_

_Surely, if they were all just illusions, Gabriel should be there to torment him with his past errors. He shouldn’t be there to comfort him._

_“Who says I’m here to help?” Gabriel’s voice was suddenly cold and indifferent._

_“But you just told me what this is. I thought…”_

_“Well, think again. I don’t take sides, remember? Oh wait, yes I do. I got killed ‘cause of you and your little pets by taking your side. You couldn’t even be bothered to show up then. Thanks for that.”_

_“I was in the hospital; I’d become human. I didn’t even know what had happened to you for months until Dean informed me of your demise. Gabriel, I swear, I didn’t mean for you to die.”_

_“You knew I was alive for months, Cas. We were friends, way back in the day. And you couldn’t even be bothered to come and find me again to convince me to help. Talk about having no loyalty.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Me being here, helping you, this isn’t a kindness. Disappointment is always worse than anger, don’t you think?”_

_“I thought you hated me for wanting to stop it all. I knew we had to kill Michael and Lucifer to do it. I didn’t want to force you into that, brother. That had to be your choice. If I had tried, I’d have been as bad as everyone else in Heaven, forcing us to follow our destinies. It was not out of negligence, I promise.” Castiel pleaded, begging him to understand._

_Silence._

_“You always did care too much, little bro.” Gabriel finally said softly. “Sometimes, I wish you didn’t.”_

_Castiel knew it was only an illusion, some clever hocus pocus devised by Lucifer to torment him with yet more guilt. Yet there was something, however small, that gave him hope._

_“Are you real?”_

_“Now that would be telling.” Gabriel smiled faintly. “Good luck, kiddo. You’re gonna need it.”_

 

_He snapped his fingers; then he was gone._

 

 

…………………

 

So, Bobby was a ghost. Dean had seen it coming for a while, he had to admit, but that didn’t make it any less of a shock. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about, they now had the fear that Bobby would go full-on vengeful spirit and set off to take down Dick Roman. Just another normal day in the life of the Winchesters.

 

Even so, it was good to see him again. Dean had missed having the old guy around, far too much, and despite the complications caused by him being a ghost, the mood in the cabin was significantly lighter with him there. Sam couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to geek out, of course, asking Bobby countless questions about what capabilities he actually had now and scribbling it all down in their dad’s journal. Dean might’ve appeared disinterested, but he was equally curious. So sue him, when else was he going to find out what ghosts were capable of?

 

The conversation took a more awkward turn, though, when they began discussing how ghosts could sense the presence of other spirits.

“Looks like you boys have been messing with some seriously bad mojo, going by whatever poltergeist is bothering the wingless wonder over there.” Bobby looked pointedly over in the direction of Cas’s bed.

The brothers looked at each other, confused. They’d told Bobby a Cliffnotes version of what had happened since his death, including the angel’s reappearance, but hadn’t gone into much detail about why he was currently out for the count. Sam felt too guilty about the toll his Hell memories were taking on Cas and Dean would only mention the subject if forced, and even then only after a few glasses of whiskey.

“Wait, you’re saying there’s a ghost haunting Cas?” Sam asked, lost in thought. “We just thought it was the after-effects of his sorting out what had happened with my wall.”

“Yeah, there’s some kinda spirit haunting him, and whoever it is, they’re damn powerful. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Wait, you don’t think…” Sam hardly had to ask to see that Dean had come to the same realisation.

“Crap. It actually was a piece of the Devil dicking around in your brain. Now Cas is stuck with him.”

 

 

……………………

 

_Uriel, Anael, Rachael, Raphael. Bobby, Amelia, Claire. Everyone who Castiel had ever hurt or lied to, everyone who he’d failed to save, was there. Forcing him to relive his past misdeeds._

 

_“Hello Cas. Bet you’re regretting helping me out now, huh?”_

 

_Sam. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them appeared._

 

_“Hopefully you’ve finally realised now what happens if you keep hanging around with us. Funny thing is, we never wanted you around in the first place. We never needed some holy roller on our asses. I guess it was useful having someone to heal us up every now and then. But then again, you never really did much else. Like you never did much to help us stop the Apocalypse. Hell, even Crowley did more than you, and he’s a freaking demon.”_

 

_It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. The Winchesters had always considered him to be family. Dean had told him so, more than once. But then Castiel remembered the stench of holy oil and the looks of betrayal in a deserted cabin one night, and he couldn’t help but doubt._

 

_“Then again, you couldn’t always even heal us up right. You did at least fix me in the end, even if you screwed yourself up in the process. I’ll give you that much. Don’t expect us to be waiting around, though, when you wake up. We’ve got more important hunts to focus on without wasting time fussing over some half-dead angel.”_

 

_Ever since Gabriel’s warning, Castiel had been careful not to react, not to give in to believing any of the poison that the phantoms told him. If he did that, he could lose all sight of reality. That had been Sam’s mistake. But now, it wasn’t his loyalty that was being questioned. It was Dean’s. Dean wouldn’t have just abandoned him._

 

_Castiel saw red._

 

_“That’s not true. Dean would never leave. Maybe you would. You have every reason to hate me after what I did, and I don’t blame you for it. But Dean wouldn’t abandon me. I know he wouldn’t.”_

 

_Sam raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be too sure. I’m not lying, am I, Dean?”_

 

_Oh God._

 

_Not Dean._

 

_Anyone but Dean._

 

_Too late._

 

_His face was all wrong. The freckles and green eyes were his, yes. Castiel had never seen that face look at him so disdainfully, though, nor witnessed those soft lips curled in such a bitter sneer._

_“Heya, Cas.”_

_“You’re not real.” You’re not real. You’re not real. An endless litany._

_“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Not that it matters. Either way, I’m not lying to you. What? Not liking what Sammy and I have got to say? Just ‘cause I act all nice when you’re around, you seriously think I really feel that way about you?”_

_“You said you wanted me. I thought…” I thought you loved me._

_“Yeah, right, like I ever actually cared. You know me, Cas. I’ve never particularly bothered about working out if I loved someone or not before I decided to screw them. A quick fuck doesn’t mean I actually give a damn about your sorry ass. It got you to cure Sam, right? You were just gonna piss off or keep on pretending you were that vessel of yours if I hadn’t. Humans lie to get what they want, remember? I got what I wanted. Why should I give a crap about you now?”_

_Dean lightly caressed his cheek. Instead of being the tender gesture it should have been, it felt more like a mockery._

_It was wrong. Everything was wrong. But then again, maybe it wasn’t._

_Maybe he’d just imagined it all because that’s what he wanted to see. Maybe Dean had never really wanted him back. No. He couldn’t afford to think like that._

_“Dean, this isn’t you. Please stop it. Stop it now.” “Yes, it is. Are you really that desperate to keep pretending, Cas? This is real. This is the real me. And I’m saying I don’t want you around anymore. Is that so hard for you to understand?”_

_Castiel remembered Zachariah’s beautiful room, Dean turning his back on him and saying “We’re done.” He remembered the room full of holy fire, singeing Cas’s wings as Dean glared at him. Dean accusing him of being as bad as Crowley, him thinking that Castiel would have stooped so low as to kidnap Lisa and Ben. He remembered Dean’s fury when it was apparent that Sam couldn’t be cured. He remembered Dean’s bitter words: “Why the hell did God even bother to bring you back if you’re so useless?”_

 

_The walls between dream and reality came crashing down._

 

_Castiel broke._

 

…………………

 

Dean paced across the room. He knew what he was planning was foolish, but since their conversation with Bobby, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Cas. Sam hadn’t told him much about what Lucifer had subjected him to, but Dean had been able to read between the lines and work out quite how bad it had been. Cas had been unconscious for weeks. Things weren’t getting better so something had to be done. And if Cas couldn’t bust out on his own from whatever illusions Lucifer had him trapped in, maybe he’d do better if there was someone there to help him.

 

It wouldn’t have been the first time Dean had made a dumbass decision to save his family.

 

As gently as he could, Dean pulled out a lock of Cas’s hair and put it in the mug of dreamroot tea he’d brewed. Kissing Cas lightly on the lips, he murmured, “You keep fighting that son of a bitch ‘til I get there, you hear me?”

 

He drank the tea, downing it in one gulp. The world went black.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [what we keep and what we lose [exercise]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563375) by [GloriaMundi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaMundi/pseuds/GloriaMundi)




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